Yours
by OoLostGirloO
Summary: Merlin turns to self-harm in order to withstand Arthurs reaction to finding out he has magic. Will Arthur be able to keep a lid on his temper and reach Merlin before it's too late, and just as importantly, does he want to? Sort of a song fic; Cut by Plum


**Yours**

* * *

_I'm not a stranger, no I am yours._

He wouldn't even look at me, not in the eye at least. And he only spoke when absolutely necessary, to give me my daily chores, or to tell me to leave. I hadn't wanted him to find out like he did, in the heat of battle when I had to protect him, had to keep him safe, because that's when my magic's at its most dangerous, when it actually kills. And that was all he saw, death at the hands of yet another sorcerer, only this time it wasn't just another sorcerer, it was me, his manservant, his friend, someone whom he thought he could trust. Now he won't know me, won't even acknowledge me, I'm like a stranger to him. No, worse, a stranger he'd at least be courteous to.

I wish he knew that I was his, through and through. His to do as he willed, without thought nor hesitation. And it wasn't because he was the prince, soon to be king, it was because he was Arthur, courageous, passionate and strong willed.

_With crippled anger, and tears that still drip sore._

I've hurt him too bad, I know that. Sometimes he'll blow up over nothing, rage around his room, yelling at me, cursing me with every insult under the sun till he's red in the face and sweating. Some days I wonder why he hasn't turned me in already, just handed me over to the chopping block, or worse, the pyre. I shudder at the thought as I'm walking back to his room in the now silent castle.

He'd gone on one of his tirades just moments before, and in his fury, he'd knocked over the dinner I'd brought him. So, in the midst of flying boots and insults, I'd made my escape, hoping that by the time I returned with more food he'd be calmer.

Some days, I wish I'd never been given this gift, only so I'd never have had to deceive and hurt Arthur as I have done. He barely trusted anyone to begin with, now it seems that he will never let anyone past his defences again. He's completely shut out Gwen and Morgana, and Uther's too oblivious to the really important things to notice. Hindsight has since become my worst tormenter, after Arthur that is. I keep thinking back to all the ways I could have avoided this, could have told him, let him see the good before the bad scared him off to bad.

I stop at his door and listen, trying to hear if Arthur was still storming around, but my ears were met with silence. Pushing the door ever so slightly open with my hip, as I had both hands securely balancing the tray of food, I peered into the dim room. My heart clenched painfully. Arthur was seated at his desk, one hand balled tightly on the surface, and the other clasped over his eyes, were silent tears streamed from.

_I'm fragile frame aged, with misery._

I stumbled back into the hall, the jug on the tray tipping precariously as I leant crashed into the far wall. My throat was constricted painfully as I tried to get air into my lungs, but my body was refusing. I began sliding down the wall, the tray tipping from my hands and clattering to the floor with a loud clang and a scattering of food. When the jug fell, the sound was that close to what you'd hear in battle when two swords met. I couldn't find myself worrying about it though, the noise, the mess, the large puddle of wine and water spreading and mixing, instead, both my hands rose to grasp at my throat as small pants ripped past my lips. But my lungs remained empty.

I felt so fragile and vulnerable sitting in the middle of the hall, unable to draw breath, with the cause of my panic seated just past the door, and most likely about to come out to investigate what all the noise was.

_And when our eyes meet, I know you see._

Dizzy from lack of breath, I stood on shaking legs, hand stretched out towards the mess on the floor as my eyes shone gold. The drink flew up the sides of the jug as it rightened itself and the food climbed back onto the platter. My legs took over then, despite their wish to collapse underneath me, they pushed me on, taking me away from the hall and my masters room, leaving the food by his door as though nothing had happened. I stumbled through the door into Gaius' room and made for my own at the far end of the space, but Gaius reached out a hand, grasping my arm.

"Merlin, what happened?" he asked, his eyes searching mine, drawing my answer from them as I pushed him off and continued up the stairs to my room, as Gaius watched worriedly at my retreating figure.

_I do not wanna be afraid._

My bed welcomed me with course arms, the blanket upon it in much need of replacing. Despite the hollow feeling in my chest and gut, and the misery my mind inflicted on me, my face remained blank, and my eyes dry. I remained lying for an age, only rising when I heard the gentle snores coming from beyond my door. The moon was shining down on me through the open window. And it was only in these dark empty moments when I was truly alone that I let my walls fall, and let my fear reign free. I didn't want to, I hated being afraid, but I knew that if I didn't succumb to the feeling when it was convenient for me, I would be forced to in the light of day.

_I do not wanna die inside just to breathe in._

I found it truly curious, that the one thing that kept me going, was the one thing that was slowly eating away at me, destroying me more with each passing day, with each passing moment. If I could only give up Arthur, move on, return home, back to Ealdor and mother, then I would be able to put myself back together, it would take a while, and it wouldn't be easy, but it would be possible. Only, I knew that there was no leaving Arthur. Even if I one day managed to shrug my looming destiny from my shoulders, Arthur would see my retreat not as a blessing, but fear of what I would return with, or more importantly, what, what magical creature hell bent on destroying Camelot would I lead back with me.

His belief in keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer, never rang more true than when it came to his relationship with me. For I was more dangerous by far than any other sorcerer Arthur had ever come across in his eyes, because I had gained his trust, and his friendship.

_I'm tired, of feeling so numb._

No matter what I said to Arthur from now on, I could never again regain that level of trust he'd had in me, I couldn't return to what we had, and I couldn't leave, I am stuck in the empty place between; the limbo, leaving me numb on the outside, and raging on the inside, in fear, dread, and misery.

_Relief exists I find it when:_

A while ago I found a way to relieve myself of the worries and pains of my daily life. I was able, even just for an hour, to live in the blissful calm that came with the exhaustion and satisfaction of cutting out my pain, quite literally.

I rummaged under the broke floor board, my hand passing over my staff and magic book before coming to rest on the small jewelled dagger that Arthur had thrust into my hands when we'd been attacked in the forest, the same day that everything had been brought to light. It was almost ironic, that it was this dagger, the last thing Arthur had given me, that allowed me to distract myself from the pain of my betrayal had caused me. I wondered briefly if it would work with another knife, if I'd reach the same blissful state, but I would not test it. Cutting myself with Arthurs dagger wasn't just a way to retreat from the pain in the real wold, but it was also, in a way, a way I could punish myself for all that I'd done, and doing it with Arthur's own blade made it more real.

_I am cut._

The first time the blade had slid across the pale flesh of my wrist had been shocking, my heart had beat furiously in my chest as the bright liquid spilled down the moonlight covered skin. That night, it was that single cut that had sated me, but since then, the lust for blood had only grown. Each night, the metal would bite into my skin more often, deeper, longer. Though I hadn't considered it before I'd started, it was probably good the weather was still cool from winter, allowing me to hide the lacerations on my arms with long sleeved shirts.

Tonight was no different, the blade slide across my skin, connecting three previous cuts that had already scabbed over, and I watched the blood well and dribble down my arm. I wonder briefly what would happen were someone to walk in now, Gaius, Arthur, Gwen, Gwaine, Lance? The look of pain that would cross each of their faces flashes before my eyes, filling me with guild and I press the knife harder to my skin. With each pass of the blade, my thoughts become less and less coherent, till it becomes simply a movement; hand raises, comes down, blood wells. Over and over again till my arm is stained a dark crimson in the pale light from the moon.

My hand feels cold I note, but I make no move to cover the cuts, to stop the blood flow, simply lay back, cradling my arm to my chest as I let the darkness claim me as my sheets and cloths soak in my life blood.

_I may seem crazy, or painful shy._

I wonder sometimes if Gaius notices the missing bandages I take to wrap my arm in in the early morning hours. I make sure to erase all blood from my cloths and sheets with magic before I start my day, but I've never been very good at healing, so my arm demands attention which can only be sated with swiping supplies from Gaius. He hasn't said anything yet, but I fear he suspects.

The thought is momentarily interrupted when I notice Arthur looking at me with raised eye brows and I realise he'd just asked a question.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" I ask with a shake of my head.

"I said," Arthur began, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenches. "Is that mine?" I look down to my hands where Arthur is indicating and realise I'm still holding his breakfast tray. He's seated before me at the table, sheets of paper spread out in a messy fashion as he looks at me as though I've lost my mind, and I place the tray down on the only clear spot left.

"Sorry," I mutter softly, almost shyly, turning from Arthur to begin cleaning the room. I watch my hands as I'm making Arthur's bed and notice how pale they look, more so than usual, I hope I don't look that pale in the face.

_And these scars wouldn't be so hidden if you would just look me in the eye._

I wonder what Arthur would do if he knew what my long sleeves hide from sight. A month ago I would have known the answer, even when he denied it, we were friends, he cared. But since he found out about my magic, he's distant, angry, cold. Would he care at all if he knew? I look up to Arthur, and I can tell he's physically trying to ignore my presence in his room. I can't blame him for not notice, for not caring, and for some part, being responsible for what I've done to myself, because in truth, the fault lies squarely with myself.

Despite Arthur being unable to act civil to me, unable to talk to me, and unable to even look me in the eye, I've noticed, that the pain in my chest is somewhat lessoned when I'm around Arthur. It isn't as instantaneous as cutting, nor is it as over powering, it's more of a soft warm glow in my chest.

_I feel alone here and cold here._

Of course, while being around Arthur is slightly soothing, it also nails home how alone I am, how much Arthur truly despises me and the actions I have made. Though his presence is a warm glow, his expression is a cold stab in the gut, that hatred deep in his eyes when they are flickered in my direction. Being away from his is worse though, because I still remember, everywhere I go, I remember that this is his kingdom, his people, his castle, and the coldness and misery descend, without the warmth of his presence there to defend me.

_Oh I don't wanna die.  
But the only anaesthetic that makes feel anything kills inside._

The thought came to me one night, half high from the blood loss, I considered what it would feel like to die, would it fix the dilemma I found myself in? I couldn't go, and staying was killing me anyway, but I found I didn't want to die. The thought of leaving Arthur, no matter what bliss would come from escaping his hatred, made me breathless with fear and dread. I couldn't leave him, even if he order me to go, I would stay. Martyr Merlin till the very end.

_I do not wanna be afraid._

I stumbled up the stairs, only barely registering that Gaius wasn't there, and into my room, falling to the floor in my hast to get to the broken floor board. I couldn't get that look of pure rage out of my mind. My heart was beating so hard it was physically painful, my throat was once again so constricted I couldn't breathe, and my hands kept shaking, making it near impossible to grasp what it was I needed, what would take the pain away.

In one of Arthur's tirade he'd accidently broken a small crystal sphere Morgana had given to him on his tenth birthday, the sound of it breaking seemed to work as effectively as dousing him in a bucket of cool water. He went quite before storming from the room. And I'd stupidly, stupidly gone to the broken crystal and fixed it in the only way I knew how, magic. I don't know what I was thinking, but I knew he loved it dearly, and I could fix this, even if I could fix nothing else, this was something I could do for him. And how it had backfired, my cheek was still stinging from the blow Arthur had dealt me.

_I do not wanna die inside just to breathe in._

My teeth sunk down on my bottom lip, puncturing the skin and letting blood flow freely down my chin, but I still needed that dagger. My hand grasped the handle and I hobbled into the corner, eager to rest my spinning head on the rough wall. The edge of my vision was going black from the lack of oxygen, but my chest remained empty as I began to shake, pressing the tip of the dagger into the pale flesh of my arm.

_I'm tired of feeling so numb._

The first cut is deeper than usual, instantly staining my rolled up shirt sleeve bright crimson as the blood ran up my arm. I tilted my hand down to change the flow of blood and it began rolling off the tips of my fingers, splattering to the wooden floor silently. With the second cut I realised what I was doing; I was trying to kill myself. My hand paused, halfway through the third cut. Did I want to die? Originally the cuts were to erase my pain, to bring some relief to my otherwise miserable life, but now, that wasn't enough. Nothing could erase this hollow feeling in my chest, I'm just too tired of feeling so numb.

_Relief exists I find it when:_

I gulped down a lungful of air, when I realised I still had yet to take one since leaving Arthur's room, and pressed the tip of the dagger back to my arm, harder still than before, and pulled it across my skin. Without proper medical attention, I knew this would be it, this would be then end.

_I am cut._

My hand was shaking, it was a physical effort just to raise it for the next cut, and now my eyes were starting to droop with exhaustion. I accepted this though, letting the dagger drop and imbed itself in the floor boards. I accepted that this was the end, and I suddenly wish I'd written something down, explained my actions to Arthur. What would I have said though, when I don't even know if he'll care that I'm gone?

_I am not alone._

My eyes shot open, though I don't recall closing them, when I hear the door in Gaius' quarters open and someone beginning to make their way across the landing. No, this wasn't how it's supposed to happen, I'm supposed to be long gone when someone stumbles across my body. I look down at my bloody arm, still glistening with fresh blood, and wonder briefly if I can find the strength to stand, cover the blood up, and send whoever it is away, so I can die in peace. But, even just raising my non bloody arm left me panting with exertion.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. So, none of the royals then, which left Gwen and Gaius. I let out a breath and my eyes drifted shut once more, maybe whoever it is will go away, I think vainly.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice called cautiously. Strange, when did Arthur start knocking. "Merlin?" Impatient as always, this second call was accompanied by the creek of my door opening. "Merl-" my name was cut of suddenly and then there were thundering feet bringing Arthur quickly to me. I wondered briefly if he was going to strike me again. "Merlin? Merlin! Merlin look at me! Open your eyes god dam it!" His hands were everywhere, feather light touches to my cheeks, hair, arms and neck. I figured, since I was leaving him, weather he mourned me or not, I could at least give him this final request. My eyes opened, but my vision was blurred as I tried to lock onto the man before me.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed in relief. "Gaius, I need Gaius," Arthur then muttered to himself, before turning from me and bellowing the exact same words in the direction of the door, and with his loud voice, the words were sure to carry. "Merlin," my eyes turned back to him groggily. "Merlin you have to keep your eyes open, you have to stay awake." I opened my mouth to ask why, but no sound came out, I tried again, and this time tasted something salty, I was crying? Strange.

"Why?" I finally got out. Arthur flinched, his jaw clenching, but I no longer cared if I incurred his wrath, I was not long for this world anyway.

"Can you heal this?" Arthur asked, ignoring my question, his eyes locking on the jagged cuts lining my arm. I shook my head before groaning at the movement.

"Can't heal," I breathed. "'n even if I could, too- too, exhausted, can't use- can't use magic," I panted, suddenly short of breath.

"Shh, it's okay, don't waste your strength," Arthur hushed, his hand on my cheek, his eyes sorrowful.

_I am not alone._

"Why- why are you- h- here?" I asked brokenly my head lolling back to rest on the wall.

"I-" Arthur began, lost for words. "I, I shouldn't have hit you, and I'm sorry," was his reply.

"Physical pain-" I began, the rest of my words slurring.

"What," Arthur asked frowning. I swallowed and tried again.

"Physical pain, is nothing, compared to, to what I've felt, here," I say, clutching my shirt before my heart. "Since, you found out, about my magic," I explain. Arthur's expression was wretched, and he had to swallow twice before he could get anything out.

"Someone get Gaius!" he bellowed at the door again. "Gods Merlin, I am so sorry," Arthur apologised in a begging tone, his hands pushing hair from my face with trembling fingers. "I'm so sorry Merlin, please, don't die."

"Why?" I asked again. This time he did reply.

"Because, the reason I've been so, harsh on you, is because I was so scared that someone might find out about your magic. And I know, if it came between protecting you, or protecting myself, I'd pick you, and I'm selfish and a coward, I never wanted to have to make that choice.

_I'm not a stranger, no I am yours._

"You, you care?" I asked, suddenly wishing we'd had this conversation sooner. Arthur nodded, pulling me to him, tears streaming down his face.

"God I am so sorry, please, please don't let this be it," Arthur muttered into my hair. Suddenly everything became a blur, different voices filled the air, and I felt myself become weightless. I thought briefly that maybe this was me crossing over to Avalon, but in a moment of clarity, I realised the voices were of Gaius, Arthur and Gwaine, and the reason I was weightless, was because I was being carried from my room.

"Please, please don't die," I heard Arthur's voice whisper in my ear. And when have I ever been able to resist Arthur when he says please?

_Of crippled anger and tears that still drip saw._

When I woke once again, days had passed, and at my bedside, sitting vidual, was Arthur, his hands clasped before his face, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes closed. The look in his eyes when he saw I'd woken, made me wish I'd never put knife to flesh to begin with, and I think he felt the same way. He, Gaius, Gwaine, Gwen, everyone, was furious for my actions, but in the same breath of anger, they cried, and I realised for the first time with a furious heart, how close it had truly been.

_But I do not wanna be afraid.  
I do not wanna die inside just to breath in.  
I'm tired of feeling so numb.  
Relief exists I found it when:  
I was cut._

I told Arthur how I felt, and how I didn't want to live in fear, afraid of the very thing that gives me life, and that it would also bring about my death. I explained why I'd cut myself, it was hard to hide the fact that the night Arthur had found me wasn't the first time I'd cut into my skin, with my skin washed and cuts stitched, the old, healed scars were visible. He listened through it all, not speaking but to ask the occasional question when I lost my train of thought. When I'd finished, he pulled me into a hug and told me, that I was to speak with him if I ever felt the same way again, even if it was over something small, he told me, that he cared about me, that he couldn't lose me.

And the day he was made king, he put a blade to my palm, then to his, and clasped our hands together before the entire court, proclaiming me his court sorcerer, and legalising magic once more. For years to come, he listened to my council and turned to me with the smallest of problems, and of course, being Arthur, he constantly reminded me that I was his _caught_ sorcerer, and that he would never let me leave, he would follow me to the ends of the earth if necessary, just to bring me home.

_The End..._


End file.
